


You got to make the morning last

by cumberhardhiddlesbitch



Series: The Rhombus 'Verse [15]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, High Heels, M/M, Multi, Platonic Female/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 17:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20068153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumberhardhiddlesbitch/pseuds/cumberhardhiddlesbitch
Summary: Shannon visits Edward and asks for his help.





	You got to make the morning last

Shannon stood outside Edward’s door, the bag with her shoes on one arm, a covered casserole balanced on the other. She stepped back carefully when he opened the door, handing him the casserole as soon as he reached out.

“You don’t have to bring me food every time you see me,” he said, leading the way to the kitchen.

“I know you don’t cook and you hardly ever shop,” Shannon said. “You’ll be skin and bones soon if you keep it up. Or broke, one or the other.”

“Well, I’ve been both and lived to tell about it,” he said, peeling up the foil on the casserole and sniffing the lasagne. “But I can’t deny that I love your lasagne. Thank you.” He kissed her cheek before putting the dish in the refrigerator. As she could have predicted, the interior of the fridge was nearly bare except for a few takeout containers and two bottles of lager. “I tried to hide that from you,” he said as he stood.

“We should do a shop this afternoon,” she said. “You live in such a nice neighborhood. I know there’s a farmer’s market just down the road. We could get you some lovely greens.”

“Yes, Yenta,” he said, theatrically rolling his eyes at her. “Maybe we could walk down there together.” He raised a brow pointedly at her.

“We’ll see.” As he put the kettle on she wandered into the living room, sitting on the edge of the sofa with her bag in her lap. 

“Let’s see them,” Edward said as he sat across from her. “I admit that I’m a little scared to see what you’ve got.”

“Why would you be scared?” she asked, drawing the shoebox out of the bag. “I’m a reasonable person!”

“You’ve been wearing flats since I’ve known you. The one time you wore pumps I thought it was going to take an act of Parliament to get you out of the house.”

“It’s like smoking,” she said. “I didn’t pick it up when I was young so chances are I’ll never properly pick it up.”

“Yes, wearing heels is just like smoking,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You might as well show me now.” 

“You’re scared I will have picked a heel that’s barely worthy of the name?” Shannon asked.

“No, I’m scared that after so many years of rocking the ballet flat you’ll have chosen a heel that is far too advanced.”

“Well, fear not,” she said as she handed him the open box.

He lifted a shoe out, holding it by the arch and looking down the heel to the toe. “Nice,” he said. “Not really what I’d call moderate but it’s doable. It’s a stretch goal, you might say.” He felt the toe of the shoe and then looked at the sole. “These are _really_ nice, actually.” He looked up at her. “You’re planning on making a habit of this?”

“Figured I’d just be setting myself up if I went cheap. Like buying a bad instrument.” 

“Good thinking.” He set the shoes on the floor, toes pointed out. “I’m kind of jealous, actually.” He looked at her under his brows, the effect the same as if he’d looked at her over a pair of reading glasses. “You didn’t ask me to help you for any nefarious reason, did you?”

“Nefarious?” She took her sneakers and socks off and pulled a pair of thin trouser socks out of her purse, rolling the cuffs to put them on. “How do you mean?”

“I know you were disappointed when I put drag aside,” he said. “You wouldn’t be trying to get me interested again, would you?”

She finished putting on her sock and adjusted the toe before she answered him. “I wasn’t disappointed, I was worried that you were setting aside part of who you are, but it’s not for me to be worried about something you’re not worried about for yourself. I asked you because you’re the only person I know who has the practical know-how combined with the patience to teach me anything at all.”

“You’re not a poor student,” Edward said.

“I’m not patient,” she pointed out. “And before you say that there are other people in my life who have the know-how, I’d like to remind you that all my female friends are literally women in sensible shoes. And I’m _not_ about to ask my mother.” 

Edward barked out a surprised laugh at that. “Clearly. And as for the rest of it, understood.” 

She nodded. “So. Should we begin? I can almost walk in them but I’m pretty sure I’m doing it the wrong way. And I don’t want to keep practicing the wrong way.”

“Good thinking.” Edward came and stood in front of her, offering her a hand up off the sofa. She stood in her stocking feet, then held on to his arm as she stepped into the shoes. “Are you going to wear that sort of sock with them? You might be better off barefoot.”

“I’m going to wear stockings with them but I’m saving them,” she said. “These are a similar thickness and slipperiness.”

“Stockings, huh?” Edward let go of her hand, taking a half step back. “Did he ask you to do all this?” She could tell he was affecting a nonchalance, looking away as if he didn’t really care about the answer. 

“He didn’t ask me to change the way I dress or anything like that,” Shannon said. “You know I wouldn’t tolerate that.”

“Good.” He looked back at her, up at her, now, smiling. “Alright, shift your weight a little so you’re almost leaning back.” 

She shifted, imagining her weight going down through her heels instead of her toes, then looked at Edward.

“Good, but now actually shift your shoulders and your head and neck back, just a tiny bit.” He set his hand on the middle of her back. After a moment it felt right, and she glanced over at him, moving her eyes but not her head. “You’ve got it,” he said, moving his hand away. 

“Ok,” she whispered, then cleared her throat, determined not to give in to the sense that she was going to fall at any moment. 

“Now try moving your head,” he said. “You can’t just stare straight ahead all the time.”

“Try me.” She turned her head away from him, looking out the window, then turned to him, her shoulder shifting back as she looked back at him.

“See, that’s fine,” Edward said. “Take a turn about the room with me.” He held his elbow out to her and she slipped her hand on to his arm. 

“Ok, this is where I usually screw up,” she said.

“You said you could sort of walk in them?” Edward said.

“Yeah but I look like Frankenstein’s monster or something,” she said. She moved her right foot forward, her heel and toe hitting the ground at the same time. Her knee bent when she tried to take a step forward, her left toe scuffing against the floor as she followed through. “Or a velociraptor.”

“It’s ok, you’re not doing awful,” he said. “Don’t bend your knee so much when you land.” He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “And lead with your heel, that will help you keep your knees straight.”

She tried, happy to let her heel hit first only because the texture of the carpet under her foot left her feeling secure in that second, but he was right. Moving forward on the heel of the shoe as if it were her own heel did make it easier not to drop into a crouch. 

Edward let her move around half the room like that. “You’re keeping your knees totally straight now,” he said quietly. 

“Ok.” She softened her leg, trying to keep the natural bend in her knee.

“Nice,” he said as she covered the long edge of the living room. He took his hand away and let her walk around the perimeter again. “You’re sticking your neck out,” he said. “It’s hard because you’re trying to make up for your stride being shorter.”

“I always think your stride looks longer,” she said. “When you were in heels.”

“It’s not like you look at my legs when I’m walking around in trainers,” he said. 

“Too true.” She found her neck felt more relaxed when she moved her head back, as strange as it had felt at first.

“Now, come over here,” Edward said, coaxing her towards the kitchen.

“Can I just try the carpet some more?” she asked.

“Why? You’ve already got this,” he said. “Is Tom’s flat carpeted?”

“No, it’s all hardwood. Or laminate. I can’t tell.”

“Then you need to walk on something smooth.”

She stopped with her toes on the edge of the room. “Ok, give me a second.” She took a deep breath, stretching her back for a moment. 

He walked into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water, looking at her as he stood next to the sink, drinking it. “Do you want me to come get you?”

“I just need a minute.” She had never given Edward’s kitchen floor much thought but at the moment it looked like the most treacherously slippery surface imaginable.

“Spoiler alert, it’s not going to be any different in a minute,” he said. “You’re doing fine, just walk over here.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, immediately feeling bad about the venom in her voice. 

He set his glass in the sink and walked over to her, not meeting her eye. She looked down at the floor, wondering if she could turn around and sit on the sofa and just take the shoes off. She was getting ready to step back when she felt his arm around her waist, his hip snug against hers. 

“You can’t give in now,” he said. “Five steps over to the sink, then walk back, and you can go sit down for a bit.”

“This is so fucking stupid,” she said. “I got scared that I was going to fall and break an ankle or hit my head on the table or something.”

“I’ve got you for now,” Edward said, his arm tightening for a moment. “And you’ll do it on your own in a bit.”

She walked to the sink, just as he’d said, turning and resting her hand on the worktop before she walked towards the carpeted side of the flat again. Even once on the carpet he held on to her, gently settling her on the sofa. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I get scared of the most random things.”

“I know you do.” Edward sat on the ottoman, facing her. “Which is funny, because I’ve literally seen you pack up and move to another country with a day’s notice without even flinching.”

“And if someone had been mean about my carry-on my plan was to chuck it in the bin, rather than fight about it,” she said. “So much for me being a badass.”

“I wouldn’t have liked to have seen the place after you chucked a carry-on into a bin,” he said. 

“I’d have at least thrown away some of my stuff. You know what I mean.” She rested her elbows on her knees, surprisingly easier now that her legs were bent at a different angle than usual, and put her chin in her hands. 

“I do know what you mean. I know you.” He nudged her foot carefully with his own.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Now _that’s_ scary.”

“You can handle it.” He stood up and offered her his hand. “You’d be all calm and collected if there was a t-rex stomping through the neighborhood but I’ve seen you go to the most convoluted lengths not to make a phone call.”

“Was the call in question to my mother?” she asked.

“Maybe.” He held his arm steady as she stood up, using him for leverage. “Now that would be entirely reasonable.”

“All to my point,” she said. This time walking around the room she felt like her feet and the rest of her body remembered what to do. In the kitchen she stepped on to the tile, her hand still on Edward’s but not clinging as she walked to the sink.

“I can’t believe how much taller I am,” she said as she reached up into the cabinet for a glass. “Of course it makes this awkward.” She wound up leaning forward to work the tap, feeling like she was sticking her arse out.

“Tom should appreciate it though,” Edward said. “I mean, I appreciate it, but in a purely scientific way.”

“Gee, thanks.” She rested her hand on the edge of the sink as she drank, unable to entirely quash the fear of falling off the shoes with a glass in her hand.

She felt easier as she walked the perimeter of the kitchen again, turning when she got to the edge of the carpet. When she got to the sink again she paused, aware of how awkward the series of tiny steps she needed to make was. She crossed one foot ahead of and over the other, thinking carefully before she moved, pivoting so her legs uncrossed as she turned.

“Nicely done,” Edward said as she walked the length of the kitchen and tried it again. 

“It's not too affected?” She rested at the corner of the worktop, leaning back for a moment.

“Not for what you have in mind. You're not exactly wearing them to the office or the opera.” He winked as she looked up at him quickly, worried that maybe he’d sussed out her true motivation for the shoes, but he only carried on. “Not at first anyway, but once you're comfortable in them I'm sure you'll wear them all kinds of places.”

“I actually can imagine that,” she said. She took a turn around his flat, transitioning from the smooth floor to carpet and back with only a couple of stumbles and always within easy reach of the furniture or a wall. Tom’s more spacious flat would pose a challenge, but it didn't seem insurmountable as it had only an hour ago. 

“Do you want to go outside in them?”

She thought about it as she walked around the small kitchen. “Not today. I want these to be pristine the first time I wear them. If I scuffed them I'd be so mad at myself.”

“Then when you're ready to change back into your boots and we’ll go out.”

She nodded, walking the perimeter of the kitchen once more before she went to the sofa to sit down. 

“There's a few cobblestones and the market is busy so it's probably just as well, though you'll have to try it sometime,” Edward said. 

“I know.” She pulled her boots back on. “Baby steps though.”

“Agreed.” He gathered a canvas bag for each of them and they set off. He linked his arm in hers once they reached the broad pedestrianized street that began the market, steering her away from a stall full of beets.

“But those look lovely, Edward,” she chided him. 

“They're the heaviest things here unless you buy a melon or a whole side of beef. We’ll come back this way, and you can get your beets at the end.”

“Alright but I'm not letting you forget. And I'll get you to like beets one of these days.”

“We’ll see.” 

They fell into an old habit of walking in silence, one gently nudging the other to take notice of a particularly interesting person or scene. At the end of the market there was a small park with an empty bench. Shannon led them to it, taking her arm back as they sat. 

“The way we can talk without talking, you'd think we'd been to boarding school together, not college,” Shannon said.

“Now there's a thought,” Edward said. “I'm sure I'd have had you in more trouble than I already did, had we lived away.”

“You didn't do so badly.” She looked out over the market, idly considering various meals and experiments at the back of her mind when a particular scent caught her nose. “I smell coffee,” she said, looking around for it.

“Over there,” Edward said, pointing down the hill. “Do you want some?”

“Yes.” She stood up. “Do you?”

“Always.”

She accepted the folded note when he handed it to her and walked down the hill to the small kiosk. The coffee was made in individual servings, hot water poured over each cone filter with the same aplomb as if it were a Moroccan tea ceremony. She watched dubiously for a moment, wondering how the process could produce a satisfactory cup, but the aroma was strong and the kiosk was busy enough that she supposed they had repeat custom. 

Once she had the cups in hand she paused in front of the little table with milk and sugar, fixing them up before heading back up the hill.

“I didn’t mean to make you buy my coffee,” Edward said as she sat down.

“I know. You know I’d rather do that than hold a seat though.” The market was just busy enough that the park was going to start filling up with people milling about, looking for a place to socialize. 

“Alright, thanks.” Edward nodded slowly after he drank, appreciative. They drank in silence for a bit, until he nudged her with his foot. “So, Tom.”

“Yes?” She held the cup in both hands, wondering where, exactly, Edward was going. 

“How is he?”

“He’s great.” She took a sip, collecting her thoughts. “He’s with Louis a lot lately, and I don’t go over there when he is, but I saw him on Wednesday afternoon. He’s working in London, mostly, which is nice.”

“You don’t go over at all if Louis is there?”

“We don’t want to confuse him by introducing me too soon.”

“What’s too soon?” 

“All the articles and books about that stuff say six months.” She sipped her coffee, trying to hide her discomfort. It wasn’t that she would ever second guess a parent’s intentions over protecting their child, but it left her uneasy.

“I’m guessing the theory is that if you’re together for six months that it’s going to be a long term thing,” Edward said.

“That’s the theory, for the most part,” she agreed.

“But if you’re sure now that you’re serious, what about it being six months would be important? It’s not like the kid is going to know that you took your time.”

“I’m not entirely sure, but it does feel like there’s a clock ticking. I don’t keep track of things like that, generally, and now it seems like we’re going to be more or less forced to remember our six month “anniversary,” if you will. I’m not even sure where he’s counting from.”

“Hopefully the first night he met you. That seemed pretty intense.”

“I’d agree with that.” She couldn’t suppress a smile at the memory.

“Does Ben go over when Louis is there?”

“I think so. But as far as Louis is concerned, they’ve been friends since before he was born.”

“And you couldn’t be introduced to Louis as Tom’s friend?”

“I’m not going to challenge him on this,” she said, her tone final.

“Alright. I think you’re right about that. I was just puzzled.”

“I was too, a bit, but it’s not unwise.”

“Fair enough.” Edward leaned against her for a moment, then sat up. When she looked over at him he was licking his lips, a sure sign that he had something else he wanted to say.

“What is it?” She asked, nudging him with her foot.

“I’m just still wondering about the shoes,” he said. “You said he didn’t ask you to wear them.”

“That’s right.”

“But you knew he’d like them?”

She leaned back against the bench, considering. “They fit his aesthetic, in some regards.”

Edward looked at her for a long time, barely blinking before he spoke. “Is he kinky?”

She smirked before she could stop herself. “What makes you think that would be any business of yours?”

“I know that the details are not my business. None of it is my business, at all. But I do get concerned for you. I think that’s within my purview.”

“Your purview,” she said, dragging the word out. “Really, Edward.”

“It’s a fine word. And correct.”

“Alright.” She finished her coffee and stood, bringing it to the bin that was at the edge of the park. It was just far enough away that she had time to think as she walked back. She hadn’t discussed the particulars of Tom’s interest in BDSM with anyone, partially out of her own sense of privacy and partially out of a desire to protect his far more tenuous grasp on the same. Edward was something of a different story. Anything she entrusted to his knowledge was as safe with him as it would have been in her own mind, but there was still the nagging sense that Tom might not want it shared. At the same time he hadn’t insisted on secrecy-- and if he had, it would have removed a great deal of comfort that she felt with him in the first place. 

By the time she got back to the bench she realized that her silence had probably driven Edward to imagine more peril for her then there even was. She sat next to him, sliding over until she was pressed against his side, leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“He’s got a boyfriend and a girlfriend, so what do you think?”

“I think that wasn’t exactly the thing I was asking you, but upon some reflection, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Perhaps not. But it was something about the shoes?”

“It’s just that they do go with a certain aesthetic, as you say, and if he’s asking you to, to, provide him with something that you’ve never done before that’s a lot, and if he’s asking you to, I don’t know, give him some kind of discipline or dominance, then I think there’s a fairly good chance of you getting hurt because that is, as far as I know, fairly well outside your, well, your purview, if you like.”

She’d gone from being fairly concerned that he’d rumbled her so easily to laughing helplessly, holding her head up against the back of her hand. She met his eye cautiously, afraid that she’d offended him.

“I think that would be quite outside my comfort range, to be sure,” she said. “It’s not that.” She cleared her throat. “Is that what those shoes say, though? I thought they were nice. I thought I could wear them to, I don’t know, a business meeting if I had to.”

“You could. It’s all in how you wear them.” He smiled at her, hesitant. “I didn’t mean to imply that you’d chosen badly.”

“Thanks. Rest assured, those shoes are intended for a special date, and thereafter whenever I feel like wearing them, albeit in the hopes that he will appreciate them. And I am perfectly safe. Tom is a gentleman.”

He took her hand, his elbow resting on the back of the bench. “I know you’re discerning. It’s just that he seems quite a lot more intense than anyone I’ve ever known you to be interested in, much less date.”

“Because I’ve dated so many people,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“You’re fine,” he said, preempting her usual castigation of herself. “And I included anyone who has ever turned your head, in that assessment. I wouldn’t have picked him as a potential interest for you, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a good match.”

“He feels like a good match.” She swallowed hard, watching Edward’s slow smile. 

“You’re allowed to say that,” he said as she tried to tug her hand away. “Really.”

“I know.”

“Mmm hmm.” He squeezed her hand and let go. “We should go look at the beets before they’re all gone.”

“Do you want some?” She couldn’t keep the hopeful tone from her voice.

“I do not.” He laughed and dodged the gentle smack she had aimed at the back of his head. “I will get a bunch of greens and one vegetable. That’s a start.”

“It’s a wonder that you’re so svelte,” she muttered. 

“It’s my superior genes,” he said, finishing the last of his coffee as they stood. 

“Even so.” 

She didn’t mind bumping into him when they walked, and she was fairly sure that to the casual observer they looked like a couple, shoulder to shoulder as they looked over fresh eggs and purple carrots, and her beloved beets. She shouldered the bag as they walked back to his flat, glad that she hadn’t pushed her own boundaries too hard in wearing the heels, as the cobblestones were tricky enough in trainers.

“Do you have time to walk with me again?” Shannon asked once they were back in his flat, his carrots and greens tucked into the crisper.

“Of course.” He stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Do you want to go outside?”

She looked at the confines of the flat, the linear space much smaller than Tom’s flat. “Yeah, I do. Just on the pavement, though. I don’t want to go down into the cobblestones.”

“Probably wouldn’t want to do that even if you’d been wearing them for years,” he said as she changed her shoes. “Besides, you’re keeping these for nice.”

She looked at him sharply but he didn’t seem to be mocking her.

Going down the stairs in the shoes was surprisingly much easier than she thought it would be.

“Not so bad is it?” Edward asked as they reached the front door.

“If I stop thinking about it, it’s almost not that bad,” she said.

“Exactly.” They walked to the end of his street and Shannon turned so they would stay on the footpath, a slight uphill that she found it natural to lean into.

“How are things in the city?” she asked as they turned to follow the street that ran behind his building. She found herself happy for both the flat path and the shade.

“Steady,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Do you really want to hear about what’s new in economics?”

“I love hearing about your work but I know it’s hard for you to make it sound like something I’d understand.”

“Shannon, you could understand it,” he said, not quite exasperated, but clearly fond.

“I’m sure I could, it’s just that first I’d have to learn the language.”

“Well, mathematics is the language in which God wrote the universe.”

“Yes, thank you, Galileo.” She refrained from swatting at his arm as she usually did in their well worn argument, as they were back to walking down the hill. “What I really want to know is how are you doing with the new people you’re working with?”

“They’re all fine. No drama. We go out the odd evening for drinks. Nothing usual.”

“I was hoping you might have found at least one slightly unusual person,” she said.

“Oh it’s come around to this, has it?” He glanced quickly at her then away. “Yes. I have actually, though not anyone I work with. Friend of a work friend.”

“What’s his name?” Shannon asked. “When did you meet him?”

“Brian. And I only just met him last week. We had a very awkward lunch at Pret near the Millenium Bridge.”

“Why was it awkward?” She carefully picked her way over an uneven section of the pavement. 

“We were sort of set up by one of the receptionists at work and she’s old enough to be my mother. So already I’m worried that if I don’t like him or we don’t get on it’ll get back to her and she’ll be, I don’t know. All disapproving or something.”

“If she’s old enough to be your mother then she knows from people not necessarily hitting it off on a first date,” Shannon pointed out.

“And he’s very attractive, but it was lunchtime, in a Pret, and there are tourists all around us bitching about the cost of sandwiches,” he paused.

“Why did you pick that place then?”

“He doesn’t work in the city, isn’t all that familiar with it, so when I rang him up and we decided to meet over lunch I just panicked and picked a place near a landmark.”

“So it was awkward but you’re meeting again?”

“It was mutually awkward, I think, and I’m taking that as a good sign. On my part at least the awkwardness was at least half that I found him so damn attractive.”

“When are you seeing him again?” She nearly stumbled but quickly righted herself as she tried to look at Edward and walk at the same time.

“This evening, actually.”

“Fantastic! A proper Saturday night date.” She looked at him, not missing the slight flush to his cheeks. “What are you going to do?”

“You’re going to be a lot less excited when you find out,” he said.

“Really? Well now you’ve got me wondering.” She watched him intently, barely paying attention to the ground.

“It’s a group cooking class.”

“Oh fuck me Edward, please tell me he suggested it.” He was nodding, his face nearly covered with one hand. “Thank goodness. Does he know of your sordid past, making Yorkshire puddings and steak for two hundred people at a time?”

“He doesn’t, and I doubt this will be anything like that. It’s some posh class that I think he’s had a voucher to for ages. Once we’ve cooked the food there’s a front of house set up for us to eat. I’m hoping it’ll actually be good.”

“It’ll give you a guaranteed topic of conversation, if nothing else,” she said. “As long as you can get through the actual cooking without having a row it should be a good date.”

“It’s a pretty brilliant idea, actually. When he said it was a class I was really just hoping it wasn’t one of those paint by number things.”

“That would be tragic, but I’d expect you to go along with it if he suggests it as a follow up.”

Edward groaned as they approached the front door. “I can’t, Shannon, I simply can’t. Besides, if we do have a second date I’ll be the one making the plans.”

“I’m sure it will be flawless. And I’ll want to hear all about it.” She climbed the stairs, feeling steadier than ever. Once inside the flat she took a walk around the edge of the rooms, just to feel the smooth floor of the kitchen again. She still preferred the carpet or the rougher surface of the footpath, but she no longer feared falling and cracking her head open.

“You’ve cured me of my phobia,” she said as she sat down on the sofa, pulling the shoes off.

“Glad I could help,” he said. “Where are you going on this special date?”

She carefully packed the shoes back into their box and returned the box to her bag. “I’m not sure, to be honest,” she said. 

“I’m sure it’ll be lovely.” He started to giggle. “Sorry, just picturing you in a learn to cook group class.”

“He knows me too well by now,” she said. “The thought of getting all dolled up and going to one of those, though,” she smiled up at him. “I’m sure you’re going to have a great time tonight.”

“Thanks.” He walked with her over to the door. “Now, what am I supposed to do with the veggies in my fridge, again?”

“I’ll email you something clever. You know that you can just eat them, right?”

“We aren’t all as adventurous as you.”

“A raw carrot is hardly adventurous,” she countered. “Can I ring you up tomorrow? I’m dying to hear all about your date.”

“You can.” He kissed her cheek. “I can’t promise I’ll tell you everything.”

“Good to know you’ve finally grasped the concept of discretion.” She grinned at his faux offended face. “Bye Edward.” 

Once on the footpath she paused. She had initially thought to take the day as a day off entirely, but she felt energized and ready to get back to her canvases. As she turned towards the tube that would take her to her studio she briefly considered checking in with Max and Sarah. They’d been home that morning, but still asleep when she left, and she hadn’t seen them come in the night prior. She slowed her walk, considering. She didn’t have anything in particular she needed to tell them, and she didn’t want to give up on her plan of continuing to the studio. She made up her mind and pressed on, putting them to the back of her mind.


End file.
